Bring The Stockings
by honouraryweasley12
Summary: When an interesting Muggle tradition is revealed while arranging their wedding, Ron and Hermione must brave the plans of some scheming Weasleys. Will they be able to enjoy an evening of naughty fun with their friends, apart in Muggle London, or will their need for each other culminate in their own private celebration?
**Bring The Stockings**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on June 7, 2010

* * *

"Dad, we're waiting," Hermione called up the stairs of her parents' home. She knew he was in the master bedroom, huddled in front of the telly watching some football match while the seconds ticked away on the warm mid-summer Sunday afternoon.

"I'll be right... how did you miss that? The bloody goal was wide open."

Hermione and her mother shared a mutual eye roll before she marched up to retrieve her father, dragging him down with an iron grip.

"Are you _sure_ you need me there, sweetheart? I doubt I'll be able to help you pick the right flowers for the centrepieces."

"I insist—I really want both of you there today. We need to decide which traditions we want to include in the ceremony. Besides, Mr. Weasley's been dying to hear about Muggle weddings... he's been asking me for weeks to bring you around for brunch."

"Your mother will be there..." he started arguing, but was quieted by the twin glares of the two women in his life. Holding up his hands in mock surrender, he followed his wife out the door.

The Grangers arrived amidst the usual chaos at the Burrow. Ron greeted them warmly at the door before pulling Hermione into a hug, the couple losing themselves in their own little world—as always. They were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, who welcomed the Grangers and ushered them to the kitchen, where Harry, Ginny, and George were already seated at the far end of the table. This left the soon-to-be wed couple alone near the entrance.

"I missed you."

"I've only been away from the house for a few hours, Ron."

"I know, but I still missed you."

Hermione's muffed voice rose from Ron's chest as she nuzzled her face against the soft fabric of his shirt.

"Love you."

"Me too, Hermione."

She relaxed in his strong arms, almost sagging against him as he held her tightly.

"Is something wrong?"

She sighed and glanced up, meeting his worried look. "I think I'm getting tired of all the planning."

Ron was shocked at first, but then his lips twisted into a wry grin.

"Merlin's pants! Hermione Granger, tired of planning?"

"Yes, well, Hermione _Weasley_ would like to take her new name while she's still young."

A mixture of pride and reverence crossed Ron's face before he leaned down and kissed Hermione hard on the mouth. They exchanged a heated snog before they heard a clatter from the kitchen.

"We could just elope," he teased, whispering in her ear.

"Ron!"

He laughed and grabbed her hand. "C'mon, let's go."

"Oh, stop."

"Shhh... they'll hear us sneaking out."

Molly's voice called out, summoning them to the table.

Ron shook his head in mock disappointment. "See? We almost made it."

"You do know we could've Apparated, right?" Hermione said, laughing.

"Right. I'll remember that for next time."

She scoffed and led him towards the kitchen. Just as Hermione was saying hello to her friends, Mr. Weasley bounded in, a gleeful look on his face. He enthusiastically greeted Hermione's parents, furiously pumping Mr. Granger's hand.

"Welcome! So nice to see you again! I'm so glad you're joining us today. You must tell me, why does the bride throw the gardener?"

Mr. Granger looked thoroughly confused. "The gardener?"

"I think he means garter," Mrs. Granger replied, clearly amused.

Mr. Granger barked out a laugh. "I think I'll let my wife answer _that_ particular question _after_ we eat. Everything looks delicious, Molly."

After partaking in the huge meal, the ongoing wedding discussions began again in earnest. The Grangers went into great detail about their own wedding, as well as traditional Muggle wedding practices. After nearly four draining hours, the happy couple made several decisions about their wedding ceremony, which would incorporate both their Muggle and Wizard heritages.

Mr. Granger piped up excitedly during a lull in the conversation, drawing everyone's attention.

"I nearly forgot the best thing—the stag and hen night!"

Mrs. Granger tutted under her breath, while everyone else, aside from Hermione, looked at him questioningly.

Ron turned to Hermione, nervousness written all over his face. "Stag and hen? What exactly do we need to do with animals?"

While Hermione sought to reassure Ron, Mr. Granger launched into an explanation of the pre-wedding ritual to the rest of the family. Although he kept the description of the traditional activities clean, it quickly became obvious that the fun to be had was not always entirely wholesome.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ginny and George put their heads together and begin to whisper conspiratorially, occasionally glancing towards her and Ron. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and cursed to herself silently, realizing that perhaps she shouldn't have forced her father to attend the brunch that afternoon.

"What are you two plotting?" she called out across the table.

"Nothing, nothing at all," George answered back, flashing an innocent smile.

She harrumphed under her breath, and was about to respond when Ron suddenly shouted in her ear, distracting her.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, understanding the general idea of a stag and hen night. He turned to Hermione and gave her a pleading look.

"No, Ron."

"But you love it when I try Muggle customs."

" _Most_ Muggle customs, not all."

George egged them on. "He's right you know, it sounds like a smashing idea. Besides, Ginny here already has some plans."

Ginny's fist landed hard against his shoulder. "Traitor."

"Ow! What I _meant_ was Ginny and _I_ have some plans."

"C'mon Hermione, we could have a little get together at your place, just us girls, while the boys have a few Butterbeers at The Leaky Cauldron."

There was a mischievous sparkle in Ginny's eye that Hermione did not trust, not one bit.

"Why do I have the feeling that you have other suggestions that you're not mentioning?"

Ron cut in. "I think we both could use a night of relaxation."

"Harry, you're the best man... do something about this!"

Harry sat back in his chair and smiled at Hermione. "I actually think it might be enjoyable."

She threw up her arms. "Do you even know what goes on at these sorts of things?"

George grinned. "We'll take care of all the arrangements, don't you worry about a thing. You trust Ginny and I, don't you?"

She glared at him, but before she could reply, Ron leaned over and put an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sure they mean well."

"It's not going to happen, and there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise..."

* * *

One month later, she was sitting in a stifling Muggle club with a pounding headache from the annoyingly repetitive music.

Ginny shouted over the din, her voice hoarse from screeching. "Lighten up, Hermione! This is supposed to be fun!"

She scowled, remembering why she'd fought so hard against this.

Once Ron had gotten her alone, he'd done a fine job of "convincing" her that a night out was just what they both needed to alleviate the stresses of their upcoming wedding.

She shivered when she recalled the things that man could do to her. It was so vivid in her mind, the hungry, almost predatory look in his eyes when he'd approached her as she lay in bed, a few hours after they'd gotten home from the wedding planning brunch.

 _He slid his large hands up her smooth calves, his fingertips teasing her soft skin. She groaned in anticipation when he rained a series of hot, wet kisses down her legs, pausing at the inside of her thighs._

 _She needed more and he knew it, but he took his time to show her how much he craved her. He slowly swirled his tongue along her skin, getting closer and closer to her aching centre. She felt his warm breath against her, and moaned when he finally buried his face in her wet sex. She screamed his name as he licked her, and again when he moved up slightly to nibble and suck her clit into his mouth. As he was doing that, he slowly slid one, then two, long freckled fingers inside her. She couldn't take this for long, and as he sped up the motion of his fingers, she broke apart in his grasp and came so hard that she couldn't think straight._

 _He clambered up next to her and she leaned against his shoulder, breathing heavily. How could she say no to this one simple thing that the love of her life wanted to experience? Right then, she decided to accept the idea of a stag and hen night. After all, marriage was about compromise._

"Take the kilt off!"

A loud squeal from a nearby table broke her out of her reverie. She felt flushed and excited by the memory, but that thought was rudely shoved aside by the throbbing in her skull as a result of the volume in the club.

Hermione frowned, refocusing on the entertainment at hand. Not the sweaty, gyrating men on stage, but the real entertainment—to her, at least—watching the audience of women go completely mental over the fit blokes dancing for their pleasure, while furiously waving bills in their hands. She couldn't believe how brazen the women were, including some of her friends and workmates.

Of course, none of them had a man like Ron to go home to every night.

She noticed that her own table of four was much more subdued than the rest. Fleur and Audrey had jumped at the chance for a night out, after spending most days at home with their children. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had willingly volunteered to watch their grandchildren for the weekend, affording the young parents the luxury of a free evening. George had closed up early in order to take out Ron, allowing for his shop manager/long-time girlfriend Angelina to join the hen night activities as well. They were all such different women, yet they shared a common bond. The four of them sat on their own little island and sipped their drinks, seemingly lost in their thoughts with smiles on their faces. It must have had something to do with having a Weasley in their lives; the dancers on stage couldn't hold a candle to the men that they loved.

Hermione had the overwhelming urge to be with Ron, but she knew he was out with his brothers and mates, most likely partaking in the same type of activities. Sighing, she decided that she didn't want to be there any longer, that she wanted to be at home and in her bed, breathing in the familiar scent of Ron that was ingrained in their sheets. She would take that over her current spot any day of the week.

She reeled in Ginny and let her know—amid much protest—that she was tired and ready to go home, even though it was her hen party. Ginny reluctantly agreed after some cajoling on her part, but Hermione's mind was made up. She thanked her maid of honour and future sisters-in-law profusely for the evening, and made a quick trip around the club to shout her goodbyes over the racket. She quickly stole out of the building and found an empty area from which she could Apparate home.

She arrived in her living room and surveyed the scene. The first part of the evening had been fun, with the women sharing stories and wine, and presenting Hermione with a number of gifts. She blushed at how risqué the presents were. Unbeknownst to her, her rollicking sex life with Ron was well known amongst her family and friends. The couple was much more obvious in their affections for one another than they thought.

She sent the glasses to the kitchen and floated the gifts in front of her as she made her way up the stairs to their bedroom. After gently dropping the packages on the bed, she took a moment to examine them a little closer. She hadn't had the time before, as once she'd finished opening the gifts, she'd been willingly blindfolded by Ginny and led to their next destination—the male strip club.

There were a number of items that piqued her interest, but the one thing that really caught her eye was the gift from Fleur... a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. They'd all had a laugh after Fleur explained how they worked; Hermione was astounded that Fleur knew what handcuffs were, let alone where to purchase such a pair. She'd caught Fleur giving her a wink, and knew that the older witch must have had a very positive experience using them.

Thoughts of the things she and Ron would do with the gifts were beginning to excite her, but she fought those feelings off, not wanting to go to sleep frustrated. She quickly tucked the gifts away in the back of the closet, a treat for them to share later, perhaps on their wedding trip.

She washed up and brushed her teeth, fantasising about their wedding trip the entire time as she readied herself for sleep. Their bed looked so large and empty without him, but she wasn't expecting him to be back until the wee hours of the morning.

As she stripped off all of her clothes, leaving her nude in the warm bedroom, her toes bumped against the edge of something poking out from underneath their bed. Thinking that she'd dropped one of the gifts she'd received earlier, she bent down and reached for the small flat rectangular box. Hermione smiled to herself when she remembered that it was a different gift than the others. It was a purchase she'd made a few days ago, a little something special for the first time they made love as husband and wife. She lifted the lid of the elegantly textured ivory box and unfolded the white crepe paper, making sure not to crinkle the delicate material.

"It won't hurt to try these on again," she said aloud as she gently caressed a sample of feather-light fabric between her fingers.

She placed the box on the dresser and withdrew the first of four garments contained within. The black thigh high stocking slid up her leg with ease, the flowery-patterned lace top holding the material in place without the aid of a suspender belt. She slowly pulled the matching stocking up her other leg, the textile caressing her skin lightly, causing her to break out in goose bumps.

She reached into the box once again and pulled out the black lace bikini knickers. Although they were very simple, she was certain she'd never owned a sexier pair of underwear. After stepping into them and pulling them into place, she glanced in the large mirror over the dresser and realized just how sheer they were—she could practically see her trimmed thatch of brown hair.

 _Ron will love it... I can't wait until he shows me how much_ , she thought as she felt a spike of arousal from dreaming of what was to come.

Letting out a deep and shaky breath, she held up the last item in the box, viewing it with a certain amount of trepidation. She'd planned on buying a matching bra to complete the set, but a hint of burnt orange had caught her eye in the store, and she immediately thought of the hair she loved to run her fingers through.

The garment she purchased was a short and sheer black babydoll, with a thin trim of orange along its bottom. She put it on and fastened the bra clasp, inspecting how the floaty material lightly draped across her torso. The cups pushed her pert breasts up and together slightly, and a small orange ribbon, knotted in a bow at the center of her chest, made way for a split in the babydoll—the opening forming a wide triangle of bare skin down to her waist.

She was very pleased with what she saw in the mirror after turning around a couple of times, a little surprised at how sexy and wanton she looked and felt. If this was how Ron always saw her, even when she looked her worst, then it explained why he could never keep his hands, and other parts, away from her.

She closed her eyes, picturing Ron's reaction to the surprise, imagining how his large hands and warm lips would feel on her skin. She slowly brushed the backs of her fingers lightly against the cloth covering her nipples, feeling them tighten in anticipation. Her hand reached down and circled the soft skin around her navel, her moan echoing around the empty room upon feeling the flood of arousal.

Unable to stop herself, she slid a hand into the dark lacy knickers, her fingers rubbing quick circles on the small nub of her clit. She could feel her slippery wetness as she dreamed of having Ron there with her, pleasuring her as only he could. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, and she saw herself, her face flush with desire and her hips rolling from the motions of her fingers.

Closing her eyes again, all she could whimper out was one single word—just as the familiar _crack_ of Apparition rang out behind her.

 _"Ron."_

* * *

"How could you? You're supposed to be my best mate."

Harry laughed. "George really wanted to do this for you."

Ron drained his third pint of ale and slammed the glass down on the worn wood table of The Leaky Cauldron.

"Sooo," he slurred slightly, "you've no idea where we're going next?"

"All I know is that it's in Muggle London. Relax and enjoy it, mate... I'm sure it'll be fun."

"I'd like to see you relax when George is up to something."

"Good point. I know just the cure." Harry grinned. "Hannah, a round of firewhisky, please?"

That declaration was met with a cheer from the rest of the party, and prompted George to occupy the seat recently vacated by Neville, who was at the bar talking to his girlfriend as she poured their drinks.

"Getting ready for the rest of the evening? A word of advice, Ronnie... don't go getting pissed, you'll want to be able to see clearly at the next stop."

"See clearly? What the bloody hell's he talking 'bout, Harry?"

"I think I know, but I won't ruin the surprise."

"Blokes!" George toasted after Hannah passed the glasses out to all of the members of the party. "Drink this down, and then we'll go and see the _real_ entertainment."

A loud "cheers" erupted from Ron's friends and family before they all downed the burning liquid.

Ron, as was his habit when he had a few drinks, was starting to feel randy. The firewhisky instantly reminded him of Hermione, and of how good the strong liquor had tasted on her lips when he'd snogged her the last time she'd ventured to drink the stuff. He cursed the Muggle trousers that George demanded he wear for his stag; they seemed particularly tight and they did little to hide his growing bulge. He wondered if George had selected that specific pair for a reason.

As the men started filing out of the establishment, some tipsier than others, Ron tried his best to stay in his seat until the last possible moment, hoping that his erection would subside. However, once he started thinking of his wife-to-be, he had a difficult time stopping... which was only making his present situation worse. He tried, unsuccessfully, to adjust himself, but the trousers wouldn't allow it.

"Ronnie, let's go! Bill's summoned the Knight Bus to take us on our way. Charlie, Harry, grab his arms."

"But I'm fine!"

He was unceremoniously hauled up and out of his chair, blushing as his actual predicament came to light.

"It looks like someone's ready for the upcoming entertainment!" George joked, causing Ron to blush.

Harry smirked. "He's probably just thinking about Hermione, as usual."

Ron didn't think it was possible, but he knew his face got even redder.

"The whole point of tonight is to enjoy your last few days of freedom!" George jeered.

"Sorry, George, I can't help it... if spending time away from her is considered freedom, then I don't want any part of it."

"Pathetic." George shook his head. "Let's get ickle lovesick Ronnie on the bus... maybe some Muggle liquor will loosen him up."

"Hey!"

After boarding the precarious transport, it was a quick jump over to the spot George had whispered to the driver. They piled out in front of two large individuals in dark suits, guarding the doors to a booming club.

One of the burly men eyed them suspiciously. "You know the drill, lads."

Confusion reigned for a moment, until Dean quietly told them that they'd need to be patted down for Muggle weapons. They thought Dean was having a laugh, but quickly learned their lesson. They even had to convince the doormen that their "sticks" were a harmless prop for their stag party.

The doormen reluctantly let them in, warning them of the rules. No touching and no rowdiness.

Ron looked puzzled. "No touching what, Harry?"

"Oh, I think you'll see in a moment."

An extremely attractive and busty hostess greeted George as they stepped inside.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Filch."

George nodded in agreement while Bill sniggered next to him, amused at his brother's chosen alias.

"Right this way, we have three tables reserved for you up front."

She walked forward and pushed open the ornately decorated double doors at the end of the hallway, emitting a blast of loud, thumping music.

The group walked in and their jaws collectively dropped at the sights and sounds around them. The two levels of the club were full of people, seated around or near stages where scantily clad or nude women were dancing.

"Blimey," Ron shouted as they made their way to their reserved seats, right up against the central stage on the main floor. A petite blonde was currently gyrating against a pole, much to the approval of the crowd.

"I didn't know Muggles did things like this, Harry!"

"I guess Hermione forgot to mention these places. I heard Dudley and his mates talking about strip clubs once."

They got settled in and began watching the dancers on stage. Soon enough, the drinks were flowing and the men had observed enough to learn the normal way to behave so that they wouldn't stand out. Bill had provided some Muggle money, which was being put to good use by some of the more adventurous members of their party.

Several of the dancers approached them as the evening progressed, much to Ron's surprise, and later, irritation. He repeatedly turned down offers for lap dances—especially after he found out what they were. Guys like Charlie and Seamus, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives. Ron had absolutely no interest in taking part in something like that... unless Hermione was the one giving him the dance, in private, of course.

In all honesty, Ron was starting to get a bit bored. The novelty of visiting such a place was exciting at first, but that was starting to wear off. Unnoticed by the rest of his party, who had other things on their minds, he'd slowed down his liquor consumption, happy with his current relaxed state and not wanting to get completely pissed. He held out a small hope that he would still get to see Hermione tonight... if Ginny got her home at a decent hour.

He was happy that his friends were enjoying themselves, and it was nice looking at the women on stage, even if he didn't know what half of their outfits were supposed to be ("That one is dressed as a French maid," Bill had pointed out knowingly). The women in the club were gorgeous and exotic, and yet, he couldn't help but picture his beautiful Hermione in some of the racy costumes they wore; those thoughts really started to get him excited. He watched as the current featured dancer crawled towards them and his trousers tightened uncomfortably as he thought about the first time Hermione had assumed the same position...

 _It was late in the evening and he sat at the desk in the small flat they shared, buried under a stack of parchments for the shop, when she suddenly called out his name. He glanced up and his eyes went wide. Hermione was on all fours, crawling towards him with a look of pure lust on her face._

 _He rolled his chair back, turning to face her as she reached him. Her hands slid up his legs, running his sparse ginger hairs through her fingers, stopping to tease him by cupping his bollocks through the material of his loose boxers. He let out a low groan as her hands slipped through the opening in the front and pulled out his now hard cock, stroking it._

 _She licked her lips and ran her tongue around the head, causing him to groan again, before she took him fully in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down as she sucked him off. His hands found themselves in her hair as she increased the speed of her movements, stopping frequently to run her tongue up and down his shaft and to circle his head. Her hand gently fondled his balls as she drove him further and further to the brink, until he finally reached his peak and spilled into her mouth, his body sagging from the release. He pulled her up onto his lap and nuzzled her temple as he whispered his thanks for the stress relief, and told her how much he loved her._

"That's the nicest arse I've ever seen! Seamus, are you seeing this?" Dean shouted drunkenly.

Annoyed at being interrupted from his recollection, all Ron could do was shake his head at his friend's enthusiasm. His brothers and friends would take the piss if they knew how little the dancers did for him. None of these women could compare to Hermione, the woman who would be his wife in a few days. There were still times when he couldn't believe that such a wonderful, brilliant, and stunning woman loved him as deeply as she did. He didn't care if George thought he was pathetic, he couldn't help how he felt about the woman who had his heart. He longed for her always; it was like a piece of him was missing when she wasn't near. A mere look or smile from his love was much more arousing to him than the statuesque raven-haired beauty shaking her buttocks a few feet away.

What he wouldn't give to be with Hermione right now, instead of this loud tacky club.

"You're frowning," George's loud voice near his ear broke into his thoughts. "How can you possibly be frowning in a place like this?"

Ron shrugged. "I just miss Hermione. This was a fun night, and I really appreciate you doing this for me, but..."

"But you'd rather go home and wait for her than to be here."

"Yeah."

"Go on."

"Really?"

George looked uncharacteristically thoughtful for a moment before laying an unsteady hand on Ron's shoulder. "I know I tease you both, but what you have with Hermione is pretty bloody special. I think Angie and I are getting there, too."

Ron knew that he'd never get that kind of straightforward honesty from his brother without a few drinks in him, but he wasn't going to complain. It was a rare occasion when George spoke from the heart.

"Thanks, George. I'm happy for you."

George grinned and shoved Ron playfully. "Alright, you sensitive git, get out of here."

Ron hollered his goodbyes to his friends and family before exiting the club. Even though he knew Hermione wouldn't be home yet, he was hoping that he wouldn't fall asleep before seeing her and getting the chance to show her just how much he needed her. He found a nearby alley, pulled out his wand, and turned on the spot... completely unaware of what was waiting for him at home.

* * *

 _"Ron."_

Hermione whispered his name just as her eyes flew open to see him in the mirror, his sudden appearance only serving to increase the speed at which she rubbed her clit. Their eyes met and she saw that feral look in his eyes, the one that caused a shiver of anticipation to run up her spine.

Ron couldn't believe what he was seeing. He looked Hermione up and down, her tight bare arse presented to him between the tops of the black stockings and the lace knickers, her rotating hips beckoning him forward. The undergarments melded around her like a second skin, and her body was flush with arousal. It was the sexiest sight he'd ever seen.

He caught her reflection in the mirror and could see that her hand was thrust past her waistband and moving under the sheer cloth, making him hard almost instantly. He always got worked up whenever he saw her touching herself like that. Their eyes met and he strode forward, full of need for her.

Spinning her around, he pinned her to the dresser and devoured her mouth with his, their tongues waging war and their teeth clashing almost violently as they sought to consume one another. He pushed his hard bulge between her legs, the contact causing them both to moan in the backs of their throats. Hermione pulled her hand out from her knickers and broke off the kiss, replacing her tongue with her damp fingers. He sucked on them like a man dying of thirst, rolling his tongue around them to taste her juices. He pushed her hand away and once again attacked her mouth, snogging her deeply and frantically.

Hermione's hands found their way to his rear and she squeezed his muscular buttocks hard, grinding his hips erotically against hers before reaching up to pull his shirt out. She groaned as his lips and tongue progressed over her cheek and sucked behind her ear, before he pushed aside her untameable hair and tipped her head sideways to assail the exposed skin of her graceful neck.

She tugged his shirt up and he stepped back for a second, lifting his arms to allow her to pull it over his head and toss it on the floor. He reached down and grabbed the backs of her thighs, lifting her to sit on the dresser and knocking various items to the side. He stood between her outspread stocking-clad legs and started kissing a path from her neck to her chest, while her hands went to work on his belt.

"Fuck Hermione, need more of you."

He fumbled with the clasp of the babydoll for a second, before giving up and tearing at the material to expose her breasts, causing her to gasp. He immediately took one in his mouth, rolling his tongue over her stiff nipple and gently scraping it with his teeth. She loved it when he did that and he could feel her fingers dig into his waist as she loosened his belt buckle. He managed to finally unclasp the garment and she shrugged off the tatters of the babydoll, leaving her topless and her body at the mercy of his seeking lips. She arched her back to thrust her tits forward, allowing him to push them close together and suck on her nipples, quickly going back and forth between them. She let go of the now unbuckled belt and slid her hand inside of her knickers once again, needing to find release for the heat she felt from his manipulations of her breasts.

"Yes, touch yourself, Hermione."

"Ron," she gasped as she frigged herself, "please, I need you; I need you inside me."

He growled, overwhelmed by her pleas and his desire to feel his skin against hers. He quickly slipped off his shoes and socks before unbuttoned his tight trousers, pulling them and his boxers down in one fell swoop before stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His large, thick erection sprung out, causing Hermione to moan in carnal delight.

She stopped rubbing her clit and lifted her bum, pulling off the soaked translucent knickers and spreading wide for Ron. His eyes dropped and he licked his lips at the sight of her glistening centre.

She reached for a stocking, but his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"No, Hermione, those look so fucking hot... leave them on," he said, taking her hand and placing it directly on his twitching prick instead.

She wrapped her hand around his hardness and wanked him, causing him to groan loudly.

"Please, Ron, I can't wait... fuck me, love, take me hard."

Ron crushed his lips to hers as he pulled her forward and impaled her on his rigid cock. She screamed into his mouth as he began fucking her ready pussy hard and fast, causing the entire dresser to wobble.

"Yes, Ron! Give it to me!"

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he could feel the silky material of the stockings against him. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room as he thrust harder, filling her over and over again, overwhelmed by his sexy future wife and the lengths she went to in order to surprise and arouse him.

The dresser continued to wobble and creak dangerously under the weight and intensity of their frantic lovemaking, so Ron pulled Hermione against him and lifted her up, his tall strong frame supporting her as he fucked her in mid-air, turning towards their bed.

"Want... to be... on top," Hermione managed to pant.

Ron sat down on the edge of the bed, still deep inside her, moaning her name as he gave up control. She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back in order to lick the salty sweat running down his neck from his previous exertions. She bounced up and down on his erection, screaming and moaning as her man pleasured her, the sleek stockings rubbing against his skin.

She pushed him backwards and ran her hands all over his chest, loving the feeling of having him under her. Hermione's wild hair fell enticingly around her as she looked down and saw the expression of love on Ron's face as he pushed his hips up repeatedly. She felt a familiar rush of heat exploding within her.

"Ohhh... Ron... I'm so close..."

"Yes, Hermione, I want you to come for me!"

His hands gripped her hips and he fucked her impossibly fast, using his considerable strength to pound into her. He sat up and pulled her breast into his mouth once again, clamping down on her nipple, which proved to be the final straw.

"ROOOOOOOONNNNNNN!"

She clenched tightly around him as she came, the sensations of her orgasm pushing him to the brink.

"Fuck, yes, Hermione!"

He shot load after load deep inside her, slowing the push of his hips as his tense muscles relaxed with his release.

She whimpered Ron's name in his ear as she collapsed against him, resting her head on his shoulder, peppering his freckled skin with light kisses. "I love you, so much."

Ron hugged her close. "I love you, Hermione. You're everything to me."

They lay together on their bed, breathing hard from their latest sexual escapade. Ron gently ran his hands through her hair and kissed her intimately on the lips.

"Tonight was awful without you, love."

"Oh, I know... honestly, who goes to male strip clubs?"

Ron's eyes narrowed. "A male strip club? And what exactly did you see there?"

"Oh, you know, I saw..." Hermione grinned and winked at him. "Nothing at all... I was too busy thinking about a certain red-headed, ridiculously jealous, amazingly sexy, soon-to-be-husband."

"That's good, because when those female dancers were right in my face, I mean it Hermione, right there in front of me, all I could think about was a barking mad, brilliant, hot, soon-to-be-Mrs. Ron Weasley."

Unable to hide her wide smile, she brushed her lips against his. "Is that so?"

"It is."

Ron reached his hand down and massaged her stocking-covered thigh.

"I loved the outfit by the way, so bloody hot."

"It was supposed to be for our wedding trip."

"Are you still sure you don't want to elope?"

"Yes, Ron. I'm sure."

"Fine, but you know what this means, don't you?" Ron asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"What?"

"It means that you're going to have to buy something new for our wedding trip."

She glanced backwards and saw the tattered lingerie hanging off the now-crooked dresser.

"I suppose. Or..."

"Or?"

"Or, we could just go starkers the entire time."

"Have I told you that you're brilliant?"

"Yes, Ron, many times."

"Just one thing."

"Yes?"

"Bring the stockings."


End file.
